Love and Liquor

Bump in the Night

I.
Bump in the Night
November 1924

Grace stood over the sink, swaying her hips gently to the scratchy sounds of the radio playing George Gershwin's "Fascinating Rhythms," one of his latest hits. Her arms were covered in bubbles up to her elbows as she washed away the remnants of her dinner from the plate.            

Outside the window, the wind was blustery and cold, blowing the trees and their deadening leaves this way and that. But, inside she was nice and warm. The fire was burning in the other room, where her father sat, reading the paper in his easy chair. This was her favorite time of day. Everything had come to a slow in the city, and everyone seemed to relax in the evening, especially her father.            

He was a doctor, and she knew he spent more time running around town than he probably should. Grace always thought that if she weren't around to take care of him, no one would, because the Lord knew he wasn't going to take care of himself. He told her he was too busy taking care of everyone else and because of that; there was no time for himself. She breathed a laugh, turning to look over her shoulder to where he sat, adjusting his glasses on his nose that was just a bit too big to be in proportion with the rest of his features.            

He flipped the page of the paper with a certain agitation that didn't go unnoticed by Grace. Her brow furrowed, something must have happened today at work. It wasn't uncommon for him to come home stressed, but it was odd that he hadn't told her what was wrong. He always told her what was wrong. She decided not to bother him about it, figuring he would tell her when he was ready.            

Grace finished drying the dishes, drained the sink, and placed her apron back on its familiar hook next to the ice box. Just as she made to sit down on the sofa across from her father, there was a loud stern knock coming from the other side of the door. At the sound, she noticed her father snap to attention, a slightly crazed look in his deep hazel eyes. Grace stood, smoothing her skirt to answer the door.            

"No, Gracie," her father said.            

She turned to face him, worry apparent in all of her features.                                                          

"Father, is everything alright?" He stood, straightening his suit vest as he did. He walked up to her, placing a hand one each of her shoulders, kissing her gently on the cheek.            

"Everything is fine. It's just that you've done so much today. Why don't you go up to bed? I will handle everything down here." He gave her a tight smile.                            

She didn't believe him when he said everything was fine, and was about to ask him something else, but her thoughts were interrupted by an even more forceful knock.                          

"Alright, I will see you in the morning. Good night, father." She bounded up the steps and into her bedroom, facing away from the front of the house.                                                               

Quickly, she let her hair down, and threw her clothes off and pulled a flannel night gown over her head. Then, as silently as possible, she crept to the top of the stairs, mindful to keep her shadow hidden. Her father had been acting extremely odd, and she was willing to bet money that these late night visitors had something to do with it. Suddenly, she overheard a booming voice.                       

"Next time, answer the door quicker. The Don doesn't like to be kept waiting.

Then, she heard fumbling, as if someone was trying to regain their balance up against an object.